By the third round I had to close my eyes.

By the fourth, I turned it off.

With a muttered curse, I tossed the remote onto the coffee table. I’d only turned on the match because of Harry’s urging. I’d felt a little less confused after talking about it with Rowan the other night, while packing those food boxes. But Harry had been hounding me all day—said the in-person meeting scheduled with the producer was basically an in. They only needed to hear me say yes.

He wants to talk to you about concussions, Dean, Harry had claimed over the phone a few hours ago. Says he’s interested in hearing your concerns. This could be a sea of change for your sport, and you could be at the forefront.

I’d once made the mistake of watching my match with Bobby McKee. Had seen the vicious upper cut to my chin that sent me to the ground, unconscious. I didn’t remember any of it. Not the minutes before. And obviously not the shocked silence of the crowd. The medical crew, rushing under the ropes. Or Rowan, who’d had the bad luck of being in the audience that night, running to my side with fear in his eyes.

I scrubbed a hand down my face, exhausted and amped up at the exact same time. There was a soft knock at the door.

My heart stopped. Tabitha.

Last night, when she’d asked if she could make a fantasy of mine come true, I’d dropped my phone so fast I almost cracked the goddamn screen.

I could have filled a phone book with the fantasies I’d had about her since she moved in next door. The entire day had been one long, tortuous wait for the sound of that knock. I’d gritted my teeth through a dawn training session with Sly. Had worked a few jobs off Ninth Street around lunch. Then I’d driven the truck over to Home Depot and filled it with a first run of gardening supplies for the park.

I did it all in a daze. Stunned, as usual, by Tabitha Tyler.

I stood and walked to the front, moving the curtain back a half inch. Blinked in disbelief at what I saw there, even though I’d been told to expect it.

I opened the door and leaned one arm against the side. Tabitha’s hair was piled in a high bun. Her lips were stained a dark red. The trench coat was tied in the middle, and she wore high heels.

My gaze rose to meet hers. A dark lust was taking hold of me. I reached for the knot in her belt and dragged her inside. Then I pressed her back against the door.

I stroked my finger up and down the buttons of the jacket. “What is this?”

“Your fantasy, come true.”